


(Heart of My) Temple of Thought

by WyckedWrytes



Series: Heading For The Light [1]
Category: IT (1990)
Genre: (Yes even Stan), Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Angst with a Happy Ending, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, First Kiss, First Time Blow Jobs, Getting Together, Internalized Homophobia, It is Dead So No One Loses Their Memories Again and That's That, M/M, Mike is the Number One Reddie-Shipper, Misunderstandings, Mutual Pining, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-11
Updated: 2020-10-11
Packaged: 2021-03-07 17:21:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,725
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26951302
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WyckedWrytes/pseuds/WyckedWrytes
Summary: After leaving Derry together Eddie and Richie can't sleep apart and decide to share a bed, in a totally platonic way of course. Only there is nothing platonic about their feelings for each other, which they will discover soon enough.
Relationships: Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier
Series: Heading For The Light [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1984915
Comments: 11
Kudos: 98





	(Heart of My) Temple of Thought

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Disdaidal](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Disdaidal/gifts).



> This is a gift for my darling friend Disdaidal because she is the reason I'm even in this fandom and shipping these old fools. Hope you like this at least somewhat. 😘 All I can say is, I did my best!
> 
> Anyway, this was supposed to be a short and sweet little fic and I originally planned it to become only a couple thousand words long or so. But then... something happened and I wrote almost 16k of whatever the hell this is. *gestures around wildly* I don't even know. Maybe because I projected a little too much while writing this? There are also many things about this fic that didn't turn out quite the way I would've liked them to but it is what it is, I guess. At least I managed to finish something for once and that alone makes me feel quite proud of myself. 
> 
> No beta so all mistakes and errors are my own.
> 
> Also, in case anyone cares, the title of this fic comes from Poets of the Fall's Temple of Thought. It's a very tender, almost disgustingly sweet song but it fits my perception of the 1990 Richie and Eddie's relationship and I was listening to it sometime while writing this fic and it stuck. Go listen to it, maybe?

Eddie turns around in the bed of his tiny, dingy motel room for what feels like the hundreth time or so after he settled down to sleep and lets out a frustrated sigh. He’s about ready to admit to himself that he’s most likely not going to get any sleep this night, no matter how long he keeps on tossing and turning.

It’s not because of any pain he is in either, no, though that could easily be the reason for his inability to fall sleep. After all he is still bearing all those injuries from their battle with It with him, his broken ribs and his punctured lung and his sides which are currently colored more black and varying shades of purple and green than what his actual skin colour is, but no, that’s not it. Eddie did take his pain medication dutifully before going to bed and so what he’s now feeling is only a minor dull ache, nothing he can’t handle. It’s his mind keeping him awake, his mind that doesn’t seem to be able to quiet down.

It’s not any wonder, of course, considering that he has not only barely escaped death but also pretty much uprooted his whole life in the span of only a week and a half or so, and his whole life from now on is just waiting to happen, to be whatever he wants to make of it. The pages are blank, and it is both exhilarating and completely terrifying, so that’s not exactly helping him fall sleep right now.

Another thing definitely not helping him fall sleep is thinking of the whole scene which happened earlier that day when Eddie waltzed back to the big house he used to share with his mother, with Richie in tow, only to start hastily packing those few belongings he really wanted to take with him and his mother screaming like a madwoman and crying – those _fake tears_ , always her favorite way of guilting Eddie to do whatever it was she wanted from him – and begging, and Eddie knows, he just knows, that had Richie not been there with him, he wouldn’t have been able to do what he did. He wouldn’t have been able to walk out of that house with only his most valued belongings, to bid her farewell and promise her that yes, he would be keeping in touch and that the house would be all hers now, he would arrange all the paperwork and so on, but no, he was not going to come back, because he had his own life to live and he was finally going to live it, so sorry, Ma.

Richie handled it all so well, too. He completely ignored all of mother’s insults directed towards him, starting from the moment she realized who it was Eddie had shown up with ( _”I_ know _you, you are that... that_ horrible _Tozier boy_ _back_ _from Derry! It was_ you _who called, wasn’t it?! You dragged my boy back to that godforsaken place and now look what you’ve done to him! I didn’t hear from my son_ once _in over a week, and then he shows up_ with you _only to leave_ again?! _”)_ to the moment they finally made their escape from there, he distracted mother long enough for Eddie to be able to go from room to room and get what he needed, and then blocked the front door with his tall, wiry frame to allow Eddie to climb into the passenger’s seat of the car and lock the door firmly behind himself without mother trying to physically prevent him. That was actually some really good thinking on Richie’s part, because in her hysterical state mother was probably not above trying to wrench him out of a moving car if it came to that, Eddie was fairly sure.

This all happened only a few hours ago so if the events are repeating themselves over and over in Eddie’s head now, it’s probably entirely understandable. But he still thinks that the biggest reason for his current inability to fall asleep is actually the fact that this is the first night since his release from the Derry hospital that he’s sleeping alone in a room without Richie.

After Eddie’s hospital release they had stayed a couple nights at the Derry Inn to let his injuries heal a bit more, in a new room that Richie had booked for them, with two queen sized beds so that he could _”better take care of you, Spaghetti Man, you can’t overexert yourself, doctor’s orders”,_ and the last night before their departure from Derry they’d stayed with Mike, who by then had also been sent home from the hospital and who insisted on it. The three of them did spend a nice day together, with Richie quite happily embracing his role as ”an in-house nurse” for his two injured friends, as he jokingly told them, and that night Richie slept on an air mattress placed on the guestroom floor while Eddie took the bed.

It had only been a few nights, yes, but during those few nights, Eddie realizes, he’d already gotten used to Richie’s closeness. He’d gotten used to Richie being near, to hearing his breathing close by - and his snores, too, when he happened to be sleeping on his back, though Richie of course vehemently denied it. _”Must’ve been your own snores you’ve been hearing then, Spaghetti, because I have not snored once in my life and I’_ _ve_ _not started now!”_ But tonight they stayed on the road for a little too long, wanting to get as far away from New York City (and his mother) as possible, and so when they finally found a motel that still had vacancy, there had only been rooms left with one bed in each.

With nothing else to choose from they got two rooms, right next to each other, spent an hour or two together in Eddie’s room anyway, just talking nonsense and joking – well, the joking was mostly done by Richie – and watching some late night TV, before Richie finally excused himself. He’d not done so before asking Eddie if he needed any help changing his bandages tonight, but Eddie assured him that no, he did not, he was not a total invalid even if he did have a few broken ribs, he was healing fine and he could do these things by himself. Richie, bless him, had not insisted, something which made Eddie’s fondness for his friend only grow if possible. All his life he has been nothing but coddled, he doesn’t want Richie doing that too - and so far he hasn’t. He’s only been helping with the things Eddie has actually needed his help in, and if he asks and Eddie says no, Richie doesn’t push it. Richie actually respects his boundaries and his need not to be babied any more.

But now, lying in his motel bed all alone in the darkness, Eddie misses Richie. He misses Richie even though he does know the other man is only on the other side of the wall, a few meters away in the room next to his, and the realization scares him. _Here you are, Eddie, 40 years old and completely unable to be independent in any way, always relying on someone else, always needing someone else to take care of you,_ _like the fragile little weak thing that you are,_ his traitorous mind whispers to him in the darkness now. And god, how he fears that the voice in his mind is right. He doesn’t want it to be, and he tries so hard not to depend on Richie, on anyone, not anymore, but he still fears and he can’t help it.

He doesn’t want that to be his life anymore, being dependent on someone. The whole point of this, of finally leaving his mother and starting anew somewhere else, is to finally be able to be truly free and himself, and Richie, like the good friend that he is, has offered to help him, to offer him a place to stay while Eddie figures things out, to guide him through starting a new life in a new city. Eddie is so grateful for that, and he is excited for his new life, the new opportunities, but his fixation with Richie, his _desire_ to be close to him, is troubling. What if he can never truly be his own man? What if he always needs someone to guide him, to be there and make decisions for him, like his mother used to? And what if... what if he really wants Richie to remain in his life, forever, to always be there and never, ever leave, now that he finally has Richie in his life again?

_But this is different,_ Eddie tries to tell himself. Unlike mother, who’s never really cared about what Eddie wants for himself, Richie wouldn’t treat him like that. He has never once treated him like that, not ever. Even if Eddie _were_ to stay with Richie indefinitely (and god, isn’t that a thought, a thought that Eddie really can’t let himself think too closely about), he knows that’s not how it would be between them. Eddie would still be his own man and he knows that, with a certainty like no other. Richie has never wanted Eddie to be any different than he is, not when they were children, and not now.

Except... if Richie suspected... But no. Eddie refuses to follow that train of thought any further. His shameful secret and all the things that he feels for Richie, those are the things he tries not to think too closely at all, and he’s certainly not going to think of those things now when he already has quite enough difficulty trying to fall asleep as it is.

Eddie lies in the bed a few moments still, trying to think of calming thoughts, then trying to think of something completely nonsensical, anything, if it makes falling asleep any easier. It’s not working, of course, and then a new, horrible thought comes to his mind, out of nowhere, but it hits him with such force that he can’t ignore it, and great, now he definitely can’t sleep this night, that’s certain.

They haven’t spent any real time apart since he got released from the hospital and even before that Richie visited all the time, many times a day, Eddie realizes. But now they are apart, now they are separated, Richie’s on the other side of the wall and yes it’s not that far, but oh god, what if it doesn’t matter that It is dead, what if It makes them forget again, what then, _what then?!_

He sits up in his bed, suddenly overcome with the horrifying possibility of all that happening again, of forgetting everything, forgetting his friends and forgetting Richie, losing his memories, no matter how awful many of those memories were, losing the bond that they all shared as children and still do, years later. He lived through all that once, the forgetting. He didn’t know it back then, that he’d lost anything at all, but he does now and he doesn’t want that to repeat itself. He can’t let that happen. Him and Richie should stick together, they shouldn’t be separated, not even by a wall, because what if _It_ makes them forget again, and then he wakes up tomorrow morning with no idea how he got here and where he was going and then he went back to mother and lived the rest of his life being miserable, without even realizing it?

That is all of course entirely unrealistic and when Eddie pauses to think sensibly about it, he knows this, because he remembers Mike, and while he hasn’t seen Bill or Bev or Ben since those three made their departure from Derry shortly before his hospital release, he’s only spoken with them on the phone a couple times since then, he remembers them just fine as well.

He even remembers Stan who he has not seen once since childhood but who is also alive and recovering, according to his wife, Patricia, who had apparently tried to call Mike’s phone several times - without success because Mike was in the hospital at that point – and had then written a letter which Mike found in his mail box waiting for him on the day of his release. Mike did read that letter aloud to Eddie and Richie and as a result Eddie had cried and Richie had looked like he might too, but then he’d just started laughing uncontrollably because _”if Stan’s a jew who died and then came back to life a few days later does_ _n’t_ _that mean he’s technically Jesus?”,_ which of course had led to both Eddie and Mike yelling _”Beep beep, Richie!”_ and then all of them laughing until Eddie’s ribs were hurting despite all the pain medicine he had in his system and he thought he might keel over from the pain of it. But it’d been worth it. So worth it. Because Stan was alive, It was dead, and they all had survived against all odds.

Yes, Eddie remembers them all, and there are still some memories coming back to him now which he had thought lost forever, and so he knows, realistically speaking, that he doesn’t need to fear Richie forgetting him or him forgetting Richie even if they do sleep this night apart. But he still kind of does, anyway, and he also _really_ wants to be close to Richie because he has always wanted to be close to him, even when they were only children. He didn’t understand it then, but he thinks he understands it much better now, and that’s what scares him the most.

Eddie sits there in his bed with his thoughts racing like mad and he thinks about his mother, about his future, about how he doesn’t want to forget and he thinks about Richie and wanting to be close to him, always, _always_ , and finally he gives up. He gets up from the bed, and then he reaches for his glasses and puts them on, takes his room key, and then grabs his pillow under his arm as well. He hesitates a bit, looking down at his aspirator, sitting there on the bedside table... and then decides against taking that with him too.

He’s been needing it a bit less than he did before, because Richie’s constant closeness seems to have this calming effect on him – ironically, considering the fact that Richie himself is nearly never _calm_ -, and he’s also actively been trying not to rely on the aspirator too much, considering it’s not actually doing anything for his lungs. _”It’s all in your head, sonny”_ , Mr. Keene’s words keep replaying themselves in Eddie’s mind these days when he finds himself reaching for his aspirator out of pure habit, and so he has tried to just breathe through some of the less intense anxiety attacks and to only rely on his aspirator when he absolutely must. Which is still often, but he’s trying. He’s learning how to deal with his attacks without the placebo, however slowly.

And now he’s simply going to Richie’s room and see if he might sleep there, with Richie close to him, to calm his racing mind. No need for an aspirator, right? What in Richie’s room, with only Richie there with him, could possibly trigger an attack, Eddie wonders. So he leaves the aspirator where it is, and exits his room.

He makes it to Richie’s door with only a few steps and sees a soft yellow light still coming from between the blinds of the motel room window, which tells Eddie that his friend must not be asleep yet either. That makes him feel slightly less pathetic as he’s standing there, in only his pajamas, nervously hugging his pillow.

Hesitating only a moment ( _there is only one bed, Eddie,_ he thinks, _what are you doing?!_ ) he then knocks softly and a few seconds later Richie opens the door, clad only in boxer shorts and a ratty old T-shirt, his bed attire for the night, it seems. He’s taken off his contact lenses and is wearing what he calls his ”emergency glasses” which he never wears in public – but Eddie kind of hopes that he would, because he really likes how Richie’s kind blue eyes look behind them, slightly magnified. Richie looks surprised to see him. Surprised... and pleased, maybe? Eddie smiles hesitantly.

”I can’t sleep”, he says quietly. ”My mind is full of all these thoughts, I can’t seem to stop them. I guess... I could’ve taken a sedative, god knows I have what to choose from, but I already took all that pain medication and so I didn’t... quite dare. But also, after It... it has helped, you know, the most... just you being close”, he finishes, feeling nervous.

Shit. Did he say too much? Eddie feels his cheeks burn which means that he’s probably blushing and he can see Richie’s expression changing slightly, though the other man is quick to wipe whatever emotion was showing on his face away. Then, before Eddie has time to open his mouth again and try to explain himself, try to backtrack maybe, Richie is stepping aside from the doorway, beckoning him in, and then he’s already closing the door behind them while saying: ”Of course, Spaghetti Man. I get it. I really do.”

The TV in Richie’s room is on but the volume is turned down so low there’s no way Richie could’ve possibly known what was being said, Eddie realizes. The bedside lamp is on as well and the covers on the bed have been pulled back, although clearly no sleeping has occurred yet. There’s an open notebook and a pen lying next to it on the bed, though a quick glance tells Eddie that the page the notebook is open on is empty.

”Couldn’t sleep either”, Richie says, clearing the notebook and the pen away, and then switching off the TV as well. ”Thought I could try and work on some new material, some new jokes, you know, but couldn’t quite manage to do even that... Turns out your friend nearly getting killed by a killer clown from outer space doesn’t really inspire any good chucks, huh.” Richie’s voice is shaking slightly and he’s clearly trying to appear more calm than what he is, and Eddie can tell straight away. He immediately feels the need to reassure Richie - and he knows that the best way to do that is by touch.

He has never actually been very comfortable with touching, or rather, _he hadn’t_ , not before his return to Derry and being reunited with all the other Losers. Eddie still remembers his initial shock when Ben had pulled him into that bear hug of his the moment they saw each other at the restaurant, and afterwards there had been lots of touching from all the rest of the Losers, lots of hugging and patting and shoulder rubbing and damn it all, hair ruffling from Richie. And Eddie had soaked it all up like a sponge, without even realizing it, but oh, how he’d been touch starved, for his entire life, and he _hadn’t even known._

Eddie still doesn’t like the idea of strangers or just mere acquaintances casually touching him, and the thought of his mother’s touches makes him feel nearly ill, because mother’s touch has always been meant to suffocate him, to demand something from him. But he doesn’t mind touching and being touched by his friends, and especially not Richie. Not at all. If anything, he finds incredible comfort in their touch. And Richie, handsy as he is, does find comfort in touch too. Eddie knows this.

He goes to his friend and gently rests his hand on Richie’s shoulder, offering him comfort and reassurance. He feels Richie sag a bit under his touch, some of the tension immediately leaving his body.

”Richie, I’m fine”, Eddie says softly, finding Richie’s gaze with his own. ”I got hurt, yes, but I am fine.” Richie gives him a shaky smile and exhales slowly.

”Yeah, I know...” he sighs. ”I guess my brain just needs to catch up on that.”

Richie blinks and then he looks at Eddie, _really_ looks at him, and Richie’s eyes look so impossibly gentle and Eddie feels like they’re looking directly all the way into his soul, so he has to break the eye contact before he lets something that he shouldn’t to show on his face, before he accidentally gives _something_ away. He lets go of Richie’s shoulder and takes a couple steps back, then turns to look at the bed which is exactly the same kind of bed the one in his own motel room is, and he wonders, slightly hysterical now, if he’s really going to share it with Richie.

”It’s not too weird if I sleep here for the night, is it?” he asks carefully, glancing at Richie’s direction. Richie shrugs.

”Of course not. I mean obviously we weren’t getting any sleep by ourselves so... if this helps, then cool. So, got any preferences on which side of the bed you’d like, my boy?”

And that’s that. They settle on the bed with ease, burrowing beneath the covers, Eddie taking the right side, Richie the left, they both take off their glasses and then Richie plunges the room into darkness without further ado. The bed’s not huge, but there’s still some room between them since neither of them are especially large men, unless you count Richie’s ridiculous height of course – the man is 6 foot 4 after all. Either way Eddie can’t help but be very aware of the closeness of Richie’s warm body and that closeness both reassures and scares him. Yes, he had wanted Richie to be close... but now that he is, he realizes how it might lead to problems of a certain kind. He shuffles a bit under the covers, trying to find a comfortable sleeping position while ignoring that very troubling train of thought.

”If I sleep too restlessly or anything, just kick me to wake me up or whatever, Spaghetti Man”, Richie mumbles from beside him in the darkness, also shuffling around a bit. Eddie feels Richie turning around next to him, probably settling on his side. ”You know. I just don’t want to jostle you accidentally in my sleep or anything. Damaged ribs and all that.”

”It’s not you being restless I am worried about”, Eddie hears himself answer, teasingly. ”I’m more worried about your snoring.”

”Wha- Hey! I’ve told you I don’t snore!” Richie sounds scandalized.

”Sure you don’t”, Eddie giggles. ”Tell that to my poor eardrums.”

”Spaghetti Man, _please!_ Stop spreading these lies!”

”I have told you a thousand times not to call me Spaghetti Man, Richie!”

They bicker for a while, each comeback taking more and more time while they’re both getting sleepier and sleepier, and then, finally, both of them are out like a light.

○-○-○

When Richie starts waking up sometime the next morning, he does so slowly, the remnants of sleep leaving his body and brain very gradually. Richie’s not really a big morning person, in fact he prefers to sleep until noon if he possibly can, but something is out of the ordinary, something... that he’s not used to waking up to. His brain is all fuzzy though and his thoughts are all over, and he’s somewhere in between full wakefulness and dream world still when he realizes what he does.

There is someone in the bed with him, which, ok, not _that_ unusual, that’s been known to happen. But what’s not been known to happen is that Richie is being spooned, because he’s always the bigger one when it comes to his bed partners. So if anything, he should be the one doing the spooning, only he never really does because one does not just randomly spoon casual hookups and his ex-wives always complained about his bony elbows or him suffocating them or it being too warm or whatever. Richie Tozier does not spoon, and he doesn’t get spooned either. Which is fine, Richie supposes. Sharing a bed can be intimate enough.

But he is definitely being spooned right now and it feels _good_ _._ Comfortable. Like he doesn’t ever want to move. He can feel someone’s warm, soft breath against the back of his neck and the way the body behind his is plastered so close... and it’s comforting and very nice. There’s also an arm around his midsection, embracing him, holding him close, and that feels nice too. Oh, so nice.

Richie lets out a happy little sigh and wiggles around a bit, only to settle a bit better into the embrace, and then he feels himself starting to slip under again, back to sleep, he is not a morning person after all and surely it must be awfully early and why should he be waking up now when he feels so good, here, in someone else’s arms. In just a moment he is deep asleep again, comforted by the closeness of another person.

The second time Richie wakes up he’s feeling more coherent and not so much half awake, half asleep as he was the first time around. There’s still someone pressed firmly against his back though, letting out these soft, deep breaths against his neck, indicating that whoever it is is still fast asleep, and Richie feels warm and content.

There’s that arm still wrapped around his waist, too, and a hand that lies softly against his T-shirt covered stomach, Richie notices. He smiles and moves one of his own hands carefully, reaching out to touch... And then, when his hand lands on the one resting on his stomach, he blinks his eyes open. It’s a big hand. A big hand, with long and slender fingers. Not a woman’s hand. A man’s hand.

It’s _Eddie’s_ hand, Richie suddenly realizes, because right, yes, they shared a bed last night, and it’s that realization which makes him finally completely wake up. As he does so, he realizes something else, as well.

Eddie is hard. More importantly, Eddie is hard and his hardness is currently pressed firmly against his backside. Richie feels his stomach clench, but it’s not a clench born out of feeling uncomfortable, not at all. Richie is not feeling uncomfortable, not like any straight man should were they to feel a dick, hard or otherwise, pressing against their ass. But Richie is not straight, now is he, so there are no uncomfortable feelings involved. If anything, Richie feels thrilled.

Logically speaking he knows he shouldn’t, though. He knows he has no real reason to feel thrilled for. Eddie is still deeply asleep behind him, so firstly there is that. Eddie’s merely having a natural bodily reaction, and that has nothing to do with Richie being the person Eddie is cuddling in his sleep. Eddie’s body doesn't know any better. Richie could be anyone.

Secondly, what kind of creep gets kicks out of his sleeping friend’s erection anyway, Richie now thinks hysterically, even if that friend happens to be someone you actually had a big crush on when you were both children. Because yes, as it happens, Richie did have a crush on little Eddie Spaghetti all those years ago. And apparently, even after leaving Derry and forgetting everything about his life there, including his friends, including _Eddie_ , that crush maybe somehow carried on inside him without him knowing, because hell if he always didn’t feel like his relationships were missing something - he just didn’t know what -, and then when he laid his eyes on Eddie again in that Chinese restaurant just a little over a week ago... When he saw the man Eddie had grown into, his crush had come right back, full force, and more.

He couldn’t help but immediately revert back into his pre-teen self and tease and touch Eddie all the time, like his life depended on it. Brushing past him a little too close, bumping shoulders, touching his arms, touching his shoulders, then ruffling his hair when he got bolder due the influence of alcohol... and then, when Eddie’d just _let him_ , all the while giggling adorably, probably due to influence of all the alcohol he’d been having himself, Richie had kept doing it, feeling emboldened and so happy.

Eddie’s hair had felt so soft in his hands, Eddie’s giggles had sounded so sweet, had made Richie want to keep on doing everything he could to hear more of them, to make Eddie laugh and feel happy and lean in close to him and look at him with those big brown eyes of his...

No. No, he will have to stop these kind of thoughts right now. He will not think of his friend’s soft bouncy hair or his beautiful eyes and the way the laughter lines appear around them when he laughs and make Eddie look like the most beautiful thing in this world, or the way his laughter sounds. He will not. It will not do him any good because Eddie is just that, his friend, his friend who relies on him when it comes to starting his life anew at the age of 40, and there’s no room for Richie’s creepy pining.

Richie realizes he’s been softly caressing Eddie’s hand with his own, rubbing his thumb over the back of his hand, and he forces himself to stop. He listens to Eddie’s breathing which is still deep and steady, feels the breath gently tickling his neck, feels Eddie’s whole body pressed against him from head to toe, feels his friend’s _erection_ against his backside, just as hard as it was a moment ago, and wonders what would be the best course of action in this situation.

The last thing he wants to do is to freak Eddie out, this he knows. He doesn’t want to make him uncomfortable, but surely there’s no way to avoid that if Eddie wakes up like this, with his hard dick rubbing against Richie’s ass. Something like that would make any straight man uncomfortable, but especially someone like Eddie, who has very little - no, not very little, Richie reminds himself, try _none at all_ \- sexual experience, not that Richie has been thinking about _that_ little bit of information.

Because he hasn’t. Not once. Certainly not! Eddie’s experience, or in this case inexperience, has nothing to do with him, it doesn’t concern him, and he wouldn't even know that about Eddie if Eddie hadn't made that confession in the sewers because... because what? Probably because Eddie honestly thought they might all die down there, so the one thing he could do before that was to be honest to his friends, the only friends who mattered, who he had ever truly loved. Yeah, no, Richie has definitely not thought about Eddie’s confession _at all._

So. Should he try to get up before Eddie does, to extract himself carefully from his embrace, no matter how much he’d like to remain just like this for a little while longer, without waking him up? That’s surely the safest bet. Yeah. That’s right, that’s exactly what Richie’s going to do. That way he can be up and about by the time Eddie finally wakes up, and Spaghetti Man will be none the wiser about any of this, and Richie won’t make him feel uncomfortable, because he doesn’t want that, Eddie being uncomfortable around him, because of him. The only problem with his plan is obviously that Eddie is quite firmly pressed against him, and Richie’s not sure how exactly he can squirm out of his grip without jostling him awake. But no matter, he will still try.

He actually very nearly succeeds. Richie manages to carefully remove Eddie’s arm from around his waist without waking him up and he manages to move a tiny bit away from his sleeping friend, towards the edge of the bed. He’s just about to turn into a sitting position, to quietly slip away from the bed entirely and make his way to the bathroom, to shave and to brush his teeth and to put on his contact lenses and most importantly, to give Eddie the needed privacy for waking up with a hard-on. Eddie still might feel a bit embarrassed when waking up, sure, but at least he won’t be waking up cuddling his friend. His very male, very not straight friend. Not that Eddie knows that second part, because no one knows _that_ about Richie. No one who matters, anyway, and he fully intends to keep it that way. Because he fully intends to keep his friends, and none of them would probably want to stay, if they knew the whole truth about him.

Then, just as Richie is about to slide out of bed, Eddie’s hand is pawing at him, and he’s mumbling in his sleep, mumbling _Richie’s name,_ and pressing closer, squeezing him tight, and fuck, fuck, _fuck_ , then Eddie is pressed back against him, so close, that hardness against his ass even more obvious than before, and Richie is trapped. Eddie mumbles some more, shifts against him, and oh god, Eddie’s dick, which is separated by just a few thin layers from his ass, rubs against him _s_ _o good_ and, unable to help it, Richie lets out an undignified little squeak.

And of course that's when Eddie wakes up.

"Hmm... What...? Oh. Oh! O-oh shit, _oh god,_ Richie, I -"

Eddie pulls away from him as if burned, and it _hurts,_ alright, but Richie undestands, he does, and he doesn't blame Eddie at all. He fumbles to get up from his side of the bed, reaches out for his emergency glasses lying on the bedside table because he wants to be able to see Eddie, and then turns towards his friend who is now standing on the other side of the bed, half turned away, a bit hunched in on himself, hiding almost, and his eyes look huge and... scared, Richie is horrified to notice, and his breathing sounds heavy too.

It sounds like he’s about to have one of his anxiety attacks – not an asthma attack, because that was never what his attacks were, as they both know now –, but Eddie doesn’t have his aspirator here, Richie realizes. Eddie didn’t bring it from his room last night with him, and even though Richie’s been noticing how Eddie tries to rely on his aspirator less now, it looks like this attack might have the potential to become bad enough for the aspirator to be actually needed.

_Crack a joke, Trashmouth,_ his mind screams at him. _You joke for a living, now say something funny or stupid or anything, ease the tension, distract him. That's what you're good at. Quick._

"Good morning to you too, Eddie!" he starts with. "Hey now, Spaghetti, surely it’s not that bad", he then continues in a joking tone, his mouth doing the talking before his brain has the time to really even catch up, as it so often happens. "I mean, obviously I’m not the kind of _sexy lady_ you must’ve been imagining in your sleep and that’s got to be a huge letdown, but hey – I’ve been told once or twice before that I’ve got a nice ass! So I don’t blame ya, easy mistake!"

Richie grins in a way which he hopes looks genuine but Eddie still looks like he’s kind of on the verge of a breakdown, so he makes himself continue speaking. Anything to distract Eddie. "Actually, I do think my legs ain’t that bad either. You think I could pull off some nice stockings, huh, Spaghetti Man?"

He makes a show of twirling around, stretching his long, skinny, hairy legs one after another, pretending to look like he’s considering how they’d look like clad in lace or fishnets or something, as if he didn’t full well know his legs are skinny sticks and not exactly a part of him that anyone would find particularly hot, if there even is a part of him that could be considered hot in general. Richie doesn’t generally see himself as a catch, looks-wise or otherwise either. How the hell he’s ever managed to get married once, let alone five times, is still a mystery to him.

Then Eddie lets out a sound that sounds almost like he’s choking and Richie stops his act to look at him and sees Eddie blush, sees his face turn really pink, and Eddie seems to be very carefully avoiding looking at Richie, and shit, if that isn’t quite worrying. Did he take the joking too far, should he have gone a different route, should he have said something comforting and nonchalant instead? _Probably_ , Richie thinks. But the problem is, Richie is not so good at being comforting or dealing with things without joking. Joking is what he does best, something that is familiar to him, something that he knows how to do, something to hide behind and to use to distract others.

But in the past his jokes have always managed to serve him well when it comes to dealing with Eddie, so of course that’s what he tried to do now as well. Eddie always laughs at (most of) his jokes, even the really bad ones, only not now. Now he looks horrified - and besides that, terribly small and fragile, and Richie hates that, because that is not what Eddie Kaspbrak is like, no matter what Eddie’s looney of a mother has tried to make him think his entire life.

No way, Eddie always was the best of them, brave and strong and not fragile. He is a lot braver, surely, than Richie has ever been, Richie who is a coward and ready to admit it to anyone who asks, and even to anyone who doesn’t. So it really breaks Richie’s heart now to see Eddie looking like that, and it puzzles him too because he doesn’t quite understand _why_ Eddie looks like that, but he does know it is somehow _his_ doing, and he feels awful and he wants to fix it but goddamnit, he doesn’t know how!

”Eddie...” he says softly, slowly taking a few steps to round the bed and to get closer to his friend, but then Eddie finally seems to gain back his ability to speak again, if only barely, and he wheezes: ”Richie... I’m sorry. I’m so, _so_ sorry...” Richie takes one more tentative step towards him and then Eddie finally turns to look at him again, with his eyes so wide and wild and Eddie looks like he might cry any minute, and his breathing starts to sound really alarming once again.

”I-I need to... to go take my medicine”, Eddie manages to choke out and then he is snatching his room key from the bedside table from his side of the bed, scrambling out of the room in haste with his head bowed down, his whole form hunched, and Richie is left alone in his room, feeling stupid and helpless and completely clueless about what exactly just took place.

○-○-○

When Eddie gets back to his room he’s shaking like a leaf, his stomach feels like it’s in million knots and the erection he woke up with is long gone, god, that disappeared probably in less than two seconds because Eddie was feeling so _ashamed_ of himself _._ His ribs hurt too, there’s this throbbing pain indicating he needs to take his first doze of today's pain medicine, but the pain in his broken and mending ribs is absolutely nothing compared to the pain inside, the pain that Eddie feels deep inside his gut, in his heart, because he is not right. He’s not right, he’s crooked, and if Richie only knew he would never want to be close to Eddie again or touch him or call him those infuriating names Eddie pretends to hate so much, even though he really doesn’t, never has.

Would anyone else even try and call him something as ridiculous as Spaghetti Man, Eddie would not tolerate it for a second, he would find it patronizing and unacceptable and let the person calling him such know what exactly he thinks of it, but with Richie it’s different. It was different with Richie even back when they were only kids. He did try to act all bothered then, of course, he did tell him time and time again not to call him ’Eds’, or ’Spaghetti’, or worst of all, ’Spagheds’, a ridiculous combination of both. But the truth is, he never really hated those names because they came from Richie, and the thought that Richie would stop entirely, out of discomfort if he found out about Eddie’s true feelings, his true nature, makes him feel sick to his stomach.

Eddie did sleep really well last night. He faintly remembers falling asleep soon after the other man, listening to his friend's breathing beside him, just a touch away. He had been worried that maybe he wouldn’t be able to sleep after all that night, worried about the closeness, because now they were not only sharing a room, they were sharing a bed, something they had not done since they were children and had sometimes fallen asleep together in Richie’s bed while reading comic books late into the night when they were having a sleepover - on those rare occasions when Eddie’s mom let him do anything like that. Even then, the bed sharing hadn’t been intentional, however, and Eddie would slip out of Richie’s bed when he woke up sometime at night by his friend’s side and crawl into his makeshift bed on the floor to fall back asleep there.

But what they were doing this time was very much intentional. Eddie had come to Richie’s room with every intention of spending the night there, in the bed next to him, but then when it was actually happening he was worried he might somehow ruin it, somehow accidentally do something he _shouldn’t_ (but what he so desperately _wanted_ ) and then Richie would see him differently and everything would be ruined. That was actually the last thought Eddie now remembers having right before he finally fell asleep, exhausted after the long, emotionally taxing day... only to wake up hours later to the kind of reality he’d been afraid of happening the night before.

_Oh god,_ Richie’s little whine when he woke up to Eddie pressed against him, that panicked look directed at him, how Richie just stood there with his mouth agape and not even able to utter anything for a while from his shock, and then the jokes that had sounded so forced and so desperate, and then Richie’s words of not being _”the kind of sexy lady you must've been imagining in your sleep”,_ shit, those probably stung the worst.

Eddie feels like the worst kind of person because he had not been thinking of any woman, no, he had been comfortably breathing in his friend’s scent and dreaming of him asleep in his arms, just like how they’d been in reality, and he’d been feeling so warm and good, with Richie there in his embrace, manly and strong and oh so lovely. Thinking of women would never get that kind of bodily reaction out of Eddie and that was something he’d known about himself for quite a while but had refused to think about, because what was the point. But now this had happened and he’d freaked out his best friend in the whole world, and if Richie knew the truth he would loathe Eddie, surely, because that look of panic on his face told that much, and Eddie wants to curl up into a ball and just die.

He feels his throat closing in again when he thinks about all of this and his breath is coming in short, shallow bursts and he makes it to his bedside table and grabs his aspirator like a lifeline, bites on it and let’s the taste of camphor calm him a bit and make his breathing more regular again. He holds the aspirator close to his heart, closes his eyes and tries to regulate his breathing, in and out, in and out, slowly, not too fast, it’s okay Eddie, it’s okay, just calm down.

When he finally does feel somewhat calmer, he starts going through his morning routine as if in a haze. He takes his medicine, pain and otherwise (and he really should properly start looking into what medicine he actually _does need_ and what was only his imagination, or worse, Ma’s) and then he hits the shower, he shaves, he does all the motions required to make himself ready for the day. When he finally looks at the time on his watch, it’s almost the time him and Richie agreed on yesterday to be ready to leave this place and continue their long drive towards LA and Richie’s place in Beverly Hills.

Only... Eddie doesn’t know anymore, after how they woke up of this morning, if that’s what they should be doing. Leaving together.

He thinks about Richie and how much Richie means to him, and how much he wants to go with him, how much he wants to go live with him and spend as much time with him as possible, and then he thinks about how much it will hurt when Richie eventually finds out the truth about him and his... _perversions_ and how those perversions are directed at Richie specifically.

Because yes, Eddie loves Richie so much, and he would die to protect him, in fact he very nearly did, but that doesn’t change the fact that he also wants things from Richie that friends do not want from each other. And when Richie finds out, because he will, Eddie will surely accidentally out himself sooner or later, he might not look at Eddie the same way anymore, he would surely stop with the pet names and he would stop with the touching and worse case scenario: maybe he wouldn’t even want to see Eddie ever again. And Eddie wouldn’t blame him at all because he knows he’s not right in the head and he knows he never has been, and Richie _is_ normal, Richie has been married five times, and he would not understand. Hell, Eddie doesn’t really understand it _himself_ and he’s the one who has to live with this knowledge about himself and deal with it every day.

What he told the other Losers down there in the Derry sewers was true. He has never been intimately with anyone in his life, and yes, it has everything to do with the fact that he couldn’t think of ever wanting to be that close with someone he barely knows, someone he doesn’t love. But he also knows... his own preferences. And that’s what he had left unsaid.

He told the other Losers about his inexperience because he wanted to be honest with his friends before they would all likely walk to their deaths, and he wanted them to know that about him and still accept him. But he couldn’t... tell quite the whole truth, because that felt like too much and he was too scared, and Richie was there. He didn’t want Richie to hate him in what could well be their final moments together. Not the others, either, but especially not Richie.

But they had all lived, and now Eddie was on his way with Richie to the other side of the country, where Richie was ready to welcome him into his home and his life, and Eddie had this secret which might change everything, and now he curses himself for letting things have gone this far without properly thinking about this. He wishes he was normal. God, how he wishes. But he is not, and so, being a man like him, a man with his preferences, he feels like it’s probably not okay to accept Richie’s very generous offering, after all.

_Would he_ _still_ _have offered if he knew?_ Eddie wonders, and a tiny voice that sounds a like a mix of his mother and Bowers and It, says to him that no, he wouldn’t have, of course he wouldn’t have. Who would want to share their home and life with someone like Eddie, the girly boy, so dirty, so filthy, _a goddamn queer?_

Eddie whimpers and he digs out his aspirator once again and takes a shot. He squeezes his eyes shut tight and then, just a moment later when he hears a knock on his motel room door and Richie’s voice calling for him, he makes his decision. He’s so afraid... but he is going to have to be brave, because he doesn’t want to keep this secret, worry about it and then have it to come to light later and possibly ruin everything. If it’s going to ruin everything, he might as well get it done quickly. Immediately.

He is going to tell Richie the truth.

○-○-○

After the way Eddie bolted out of Richie’s room, what Richie really wanted to do was to just follow him immediately and do everything in his power to soothe the other man in any way possible. But he resisted doing so, because he knows Eddie and he knows how much he hates feeling babied. So instead he’d stayed in his room and started getting himself ready for the day, all the while playing those few moments after Eddie waking up over and over in his mind.

When he now stares at himself in the bathroom mirror, having just finished putting on his contacts, he doesn’t feel like he’s any wiser about what exactly happened earlier and he doesn’t like it one bit. All he knows is Eddie woke up. Eddie then freaked out. Then Richie freaked out. Then Eddie, for some reason, seemed to freak out even more. This happened despite of – or perhaps _because_ _of_ – Richie’s joking which was meant to reassure his friend, but for whatever reason didn’t.

Richie knows that in a moment he’s going to have to face his friend again and have an actual, adult conversation with him, as much as he’d prefer not to. There won’t be any joking this time, well, maybe _some_ if it looks like it could lighten the mood, he is Richie Tozier after all, but for the most part he is going to have to remain serious. There can’t be any more weird misunderstandings between the two of them, or lingering awkwardness. They are going to be living together soon enough, and in a sense they already are and already _have been_ for the past few days. If they’re going to be doing that they need to be able to talk seriously. More importantly, Richie needs to be able to talk seriously, because he doesn’t exactly have a great track record with that, but he wants to do better for Eddie.

God, what he wouldn’t be willing to do for Eddie. It’s almost sad, when he really thinks about it. _You love that man more than you ever did any of your wives,_ _Tozier_ _,_ he thinks to himself. _You always have. Even when you didn’t remember him._ And he knows with a hundred percent certainty that it’s true.

When Richie knocks on Eddie’s door a short while later, he is trying his best to appear calm and collected and in control of his emotions. Inside, however, he is feeling quite the opposite and then Eddie opens the door for him, looking pale and ill and hell, if Richie wasn’t already feeling worried before, he certainly is now. After the door to Eddie’s room closes behind him he’s already touching Eddie, brows furrowed, asking him if he’s okay, if he’s in pain, because it looks like he might be... But Eddie just shakes his head slightly and takes a step away from him and that look he directs at him then makes Richie’s insides twist – and not in a pleasant way. Eddie looks at him almost as if he’s afraid.

”Richie, I… There is something I need to tell you”, the blond says in a trembling voice and then Richie notices Eddie is clutching his aspirator in his hands like a lifeline, so hard in fact that his knuckles have turned white. Maybe he took a shot just before he opened the door for him.

”Alright, you’re kind of scaring me here, pal”, Richie says in a voice which he hopes doesn’t sound too choked out and panicked, but let’s be honest, it probably totally does. ”Are you okay?”

”I don’t think so”, Eddie replies quietly and yeah, he really doesn’t look like it, so points to him for honesty. Eddie’s eyes look very sad yet also oddly determined when he looks at him. ”No, I _know_ so”, he then corrects himself. ”I don’t think I’m ok at all. And I’m pretty sure after you hear the whole thing that I’m going to tell you, you’ll feel the same way and… and you’ll want to leave without me. And I will… I will go back to mother, I guess. Maybe it’s the best, after all. It was stupid of me to think I could just… leave everything behind as easily as that. I can’t leave behind what I _am,_ anyway. And I don’t want to lie to you about it, because you’ve been so kind, and… and so I _need_ to tell you, even if it costs me our friendship.”

Richie doesn’t know which part of all the things Eddie just told him he should focus on so he just goes with the first thing that makes him feel like it makes absolutely no sense and blurts out: ”Going back to _your mother?!_ In what reality is that any kind of option, Spaghetti Man? After we made it out of that place intact yesterday? She very nearly didn’t let you leave, just like you told me before we went there to get your stuff! And _oh man,_ the waterworks! The world lost a great actress in her is all I can say, but damn, after all that, why you would actually consider going back, for any reason at all?” Richie stops for a second to take a deep breath and Eddie who has been waiting patiently for his tirade to end looks like he might speak again, but Richie beats him to it since he’s nowhere near done.

”Also, what the hell? _Nothing_ you could say to me would make you be any less my friend. What’s that even about? I spent days at the hospital just waiting for you to regain consciousness and fearing that you wouldn’t, sleeping there on the bench at the corridor because they wouldn’t let me in to see you, and now you think anything you could ever say to me would make me turn my back on you? Well, you’re wrong, man. You couldn’t be more wrong even if you tried.”

”You... did that..?” Eddie asks, looking genuinely touched.

Oh, yeah. Richie never actually told Eddie that part, did he? He’d not meant to keep it as any kind of secret, but somehow his continued presence at the hospital, even when the rest of the Losers had insisted on him to just go and rest for a while in an actual bed and eat something else other than overpriced sandwiches from the hospital cafeteria, had not occurred to him as something worth mentioning. Because of course he needed to be there for Eddie, there was no question about it.

”Yes. Yes, I did. I mean, obviously the others were there too, we were kind of trying to take turns being there with you once you’d woken up but… I did. At the beginning. I couldn’t just leave you until I knew you were going to be okay. And I won’t leave you today either. Trust me.”

”You don’t even know what I am going to tell you, because you interrupted me with your long monologue before I could get that far.”

”Well, I had to”, Richie tries to justify himself. ”You said you’re considering returning to your mother after all, I had to let you know what I think about that, because – hello? It’s your mother we’re talking about. Besides giving birth to you I’m pretty sure she’s never done anything good for you and you know I’m telling the truth.” Richie gives Eddie an apologetic look and Eddie seems to accept it. ”But I do mean it. Not leaving without you, I mean. Nothing could make me think any less of you, Eds, or make me want to leave you behind. ”

Eddie stays quiet for a while and it looks like he’s considering Richie’s words carefully. Then, when he finally speaks, he can’t quite look Richie in the eye, instead his eyes are focused somewhere a little bit over his left shoulder and his eyes look haunted.

”Even if I… if I told you that I’m… That I’m a…” Eddie pauses, purses his lips, seems to think better of the word he’s wanting to use… and then finishes by saying: ”… that I’m… filthy.”

Richie just stares. Eddie looks absolutely devastated and near tears and that, combined with the word Eddie just used when talking about himself, makes Richie feel angry. Angry at whoever made Eddie ever think that way about himself, no matter what the reason.

”Filthy? You? Have you looked at yourself, you could never be filthy!” Richie exclaims, but Eddie seems to not even hear him, he looks like he’s preparing himself to flee, and something connects in Richie’s mind then, he thinks of earlier this morning and his friend’s panicked look and how he stammered about how sorry he was and how he then fled… ”Wait a minute”, he says. ”Does this have to do with the situation this morning? Because Eddie, getting morning wood is perfectly normal and doesn’t make you filthy. Or if it does, hey, then there’s not one but two filthy old men present in this room right now.”

”Richie, you don’t understand…” Eddie says desperately and now his breathing has started to sound increasingly labored again. Eddie clutches his aspirator but refuses to use it yet and Richie wants to make things right, only he doesn’t know how.

”Then _help me_ understand, _please_ ”, he begs. ”Eds. _Spaghetti Man._ Just… tell me what you needed to tell me. I don’t know what it is, I can’t read your thoughts, but I promise you, no matter what, it can’t be that bad. We fought a killer alien clown together and we won. After that _nothing_ can be that bad.”

Eddie fixes his big, brown eyes on him now, and for a moment he looks like he’s going to need to use his aspirator after all, he even raises his trembling hand a bit… But then he lowers it again, takes a couple of deep if somewhat shaky breaths instead, his eyes never once leaving Richie’s, and then he speaks, clearly, just three simple words.

”I love you.”

Richie blinks.

”I know, Spaghetti Man. I love you too”, he answers immediately because he does, of course he does, and if his love for Eddie is not strictly platonic, to hell with it, because Eddie doesn’t need to know _that_. And of course he knows of Eddie’s love towards him too because of course Eddie loves him, like he loves all the rest of the Losers. Richie’s never doubted that. That love is a thing they all share. But he doesn’t get what love has to do with whatever confession Eddie still hasn’t made, and so he keeps looking at his friend expectantly.

Only Eddie simply keeps looking at him in return and Richie feels himself starting to get fidgety and increasingly nervous because what is he not getting, and why is Eddie staring at him like that?

”No, Richie. I mean I _love_ you”, Eddie then repeats, and the way he says it now, how he carefully pronounces each word, how he says the word love and the way Eddie looks when he tells him this for the second time, those things combined finally make things click into place like puzzle pieces.

Richie thinks of Eddie’s panic that morning and how he fled and how he reacted to Richie’s joking about not being a woman (not well at all!) and how Eddie said he was sorry, and how he just told him that he couldn’t leave what he is behind, even if it might cost him Richie’s friendship. He thinks of how Eddie, sweet, beautiful Eddie, just told him that he loves him but that he also thinks of himself as filthy, and isn’t that just the saddest part of it all?

Because Richie knows something about how Eddie must feel like. He has felt shame for his entire life about what he is and has done his best to bury that truth deep within. He has thought of himself as filthy before – and he still does. And it hurts Richie that Eddie feels that way at all about himself, because Eddie is the furthest thing from filthy, Eddie who is brave and kind and loves his friends so much.

However Eddie also apparently loves _him_ , Richie ”Trashmouth” Tozier, in an entirely different way, and isn’t that something or what. Eddie _loves_ him. It feels almost impossible to believe and way too good to be true, because things like that don’t just happen to Richie, he doesn’t just get what he wants. Except maybe this time he might, and he has never wanted anything as much as he wants Eddie and everything they could be together. _Eddie loves him._ Impossible hope is starting to bloom inside Richie’s chest.

”Do you really mean that?” he asks softly, hoping that the look he’s giving Eddie is enough to tell the blond exactly how much Richie _wants_ him to mean that, because he does. He takes one small step closer to his friend. He feels like he needs to get close enough to touch Eddie, but Eddie is still kind of pale and looks like he might need another one of his ”asthma shots” if Richie says or does anything even slightly alarming, so he doesn’t want to rush and ruin anything. Eddie answers his gaze, worrying his lip and then nods.

”I do”, he answers, hesitates for a while. ”I know it doesn’t make much sense. We haven’t really known each other for that long at all as adults, we didn’t even remember each other again until… until a little over a week ago and since then I’ve spent like half the time unconscious. But I… I know how I feel, Richie. I already… felt it before I nearly went and died. I know it’s fast and it makes no sense but that’s how I feel, I can’t help it.”

”Yeah, I get it”, Richie says because he does, he feels the same way, and he takes a step closer again, his gaze never leaving Eddie’s and his never does leave Richie’s either, although his eyes are looking shinier and shinier with each passing second. ”Maybe it doesn’t need to make sense, though. If you love me, you love me. I’m so glad you told me, Eds.”

A sad smile appears on Eddie’s face and then he turns his eyes away, muttering his next words so quietly that Richie almost doesn’t hear, but he does, and the words make his heart break a bit.

”Even though it means that I’m a… a sissy and a faggot…?”

”Hey now, don’t you use those words about yourself, _not ever_ ”, Richie says firmly but very, very kindly. Eddie is trembling and his eyes are brimming with tears when he raises his gaze at him, and Richie takes one step closer and then another and then they are finally close enough to touch. They don’t touch, not quite yet, but they can now, if they want to. Richie very much wants to. ”Those… awful terms are not what you are. What you are is my best friend, and guess what? I love you too, and not in a way I have ever loved anyone.”

He quietens for a while, takes in Eddie’s bewildered look, then swears. ”Shit. I should’ve followed with that instantly after you told me you _love_ love me, right? I made you worry for no reason. Shit, I’m a real asshole!” He inhales quickly, then continues. ”Yeah. I love you too. In a totally nonplatonic way, just to make it entirely clear.”

” _Oh.”_

”Yes. Oh.”

Richie smiles and then when Eddie answers his smile, Richie _finally_ touches him. He puts his hand on Eddie’s shoulder, moves it slowly to the nape of his neck and from there to the side of his head, stroking those wonderful soft curls and Eddie actually leans against his touch instead of trying to pull away, with a look on his face that leaves no doubt in Richie’s mind that what they share actually is love. How he didn’t realize Eddie’s real feelings for him before, he doesn’t quite know, because it’s so obvious now, it should’ve been obvious since the beginning. _You didn’t think you deserve him,_ Richie thinks. _Maybe if you did you would have noticed, you big idiot._

His other hand joins his first one and then he moves his hands and he is now gently holding his friend’s face, in a way he never has before and then, when Eddie’s eyelids flutter at his touch he gasps at him: ”Richie, are you going to kiss me or not?”

Richie does just that.

Eddie’s lips are soft against his and they part almost immediately and so Richie swipes against them with his tongue and then slips his tongue between them questioningly, and Eddie lets him and in an instant his whole body seems to be practically melting against Richie’s own. When Eddie gasps against his mouth and presses his body forward enthusiastically, he takes that as an invitation to deepen the kiss even more, he kisses the other man with all that he has and if Eddie tastes a little bit like camphor water, Richie doesn’t mind at all. This is Eddie he’s kissing, his Eddie, and he wouldn’t change a thing about this.

There’s a clattering sound when something made of plastic hits the floor and Richie realizes somewhere in the back of his mind that it must’ve been Eddie’s aspirator, because suddenly Eddie is clinging to him with both hands, he is running his hands up and down Richie’s arms and then he wraps them around his back and just holds tight, and still they are kissing, not parting for a moment and Richie never, ever wants this to stop. Eddie’s obviously not the most experienced kisser but he sure is enthusiastic and willing to learn, and boy, is Richie going to be happy to help him learn.

Eventually, however, they do part again, just to look at each other and to let the reality of what is happening to really sink in. Eddie’s breathing is labored again but for reasons totally unrelated to anxiety this time, his pupils blown so wide that his eyes look almost all black. There is a very specific kind of hardness pressing against Richie’s thigh as well, and he feels almost drunk with this knowledge. He caresses Eddie’s cheek, his jaw, his neck, first with his fingers – and then with his tongue. His friend shivers under his touch and lets out a long, whimpering moan and Richie can immediately feel himself starting to get hard too.

”Oh Eddie…” he whispers against his skin, holding him close, gently but also firmly, and he rubs his own growing erection against Eddie’s now and Eddie moans again, clinging to him as if his life’s depending on it, and Richie wants him so, so much. He wants to give him everything, to make him feel things he’s never felt before, to make it all perfect for him, but only if Eddie wants that as well. They don’t need to do anything, not now, not unless Eddie wants them to, and Richie slowly kisses his way up from Eddie’s throat all the way to his lips, plants one last quick kiss there, and then looks deep into those dark eyes before speaking.

”Do you want me to make you feel really good, Eddie my love? Because I can, if you want me to. But if you say no, now or any time later, I promise I will stop immediately. Just so you know.”

Eddie doesn’t say anything. He simply smiles and nods.

○-○-○

The damage to his still healing ribs is going to be enough to prevent them from having any truly strenuous activities but that is quite alright with Eddie, because he isn’t quite sure he’s going to survive even what they’re doing now – and they’ve still got all their clothes on!

He lets Richie guide him towards the edge of the bed until the backs of his knees bump against it and he has no choice but to sit down, and Richie follows him down to kiss him breathless once again, and god, Eddie has kissed a few times before – in college, a girl or two, such a long, long time ago – but it was nothing like this, it didn’t make him feel anything, and Richie’s kisses make him feel _everything_. The way Richie kisses him, soft yet passionate and full of want, and the way his stubble and his mustache scrape against his skin so deliciously, they’re all things that Eddie never imagined he would be allowed to have, but now that he’s experienced them, he doesn’t think he will ever be able to give them up.

Then Richie is breaking the kiss and he’s sliding down and it takes Eddie a moment to realize what is happening, but then he looks at Richie kneeling there on the floor between his spread legs, and Richie is panting, he’s licking his lips and looking up at him with a look on his face that leaves absolutely no room for mistaking it as anything else than pure want. Richie runs his hands up and down Eddie’s thighs, hands trembling slightly, Eddie notices dazedly, and then when he speaks, his voice is low and rough and it makes shivers run down his spine, and then what Richie actually says registers to him, and _fuck._

”I want to suck you off so bad… Can I, Eddie? _Please?_ ”

In whatever fantasies Eddie’s ever allowed himself to have, about men in general and lately, Richie, he’s never really thought about getting this done to him, because the concept of anyone wanting to touch that part of him _with their mouth_ seemed just so incredibly unlikely to ever become reality. Yet here is Richie Tozier, on his knees in front of him, begging to be allowed to suck his cock. A nervous giggle escapes Eddie’s mouth but a delicious spark of want burns inside him. Yes. He wants that. Oh god, how much he wants that, and a thousand other things, he wants everything Richie is willing to give him, honestly. He nearly tells Richie exactly that, but they will have time for all that later. Richie loves him back, after all. They’ll have all the time in the world.

”I want that so much…” he gasps instead, his hand reaching out to caress Richie’s face, and Richie’s hands move up along his thighs and to his waist where they quickly grasp at his belt and open it with a quick tug and pull. Next are his pant buttons and the zipper, and Eddie is squirming around now, trying to lift himself up enought to allow the other man to pull his pants down, and soon there’s nothing else separating them but the thin material of his boxer shorts. Richie lays his warm hand against his clothed erection, just feeling him around in his palm, and that’s already so much more intimate than anything Eddie has ever experienced before in his life and by god, he’s afraid he’s going to come right then – and how embarrassing would that be. He might never be able to live that down.

”You alright?” Richie asks, sounding breathless and Eddie snaps his eyes open, seeing Richie looking up at him. He hadn’t even noticed he’d closed his eyes at some point. He nods.

”I am… I just… I…” he stumbles with his words. ”This is just a lot. I want it but it’s a lot. In fact I’m... afraid I might embarrass myself.”

”Hey, you can come as quick as you want, in fact the quicker you come the bigger compliment it is for me, right?” Richie grins, and his hand keeps rubbing at him slowly, and then, carefully, he pulls him out and then it’s just skin against skin and oh… Oh, yes. Oh, that’s so good. Eddie feels himself tremble all over and he can’t help but buck his hips, he wants, he wants… Richie’s blue eyes look at him with such intensity he feels like he could easily drown in them if he only let himself. He looks at Richie licking his lips, looks at that pink tongue and imagines it touching his dick, imagines Richie’s warm, wet mouth around him… But… _Wait._

”Rich, I just realized, oh god, I’m sorry but… but we don’t have any condoms, do we? We… _should_ we use condoms? Will this be safe?”

Immediately after those words pouring out of his mouth Eddie feels himself cringe inwardly. Oh no, oh shit, that’s probably not what you should say in the middle of a heated moment like this, and god, it’s almost as if he’s trying to imply that Richie might be endangering him on purpose, and of course he wouldn’t. It’s _Richie_ , he wouldn’t and Eddie _knows_ that, but what’s said is said and besides, once it occurred to him, there was no way Eddie could’ve stayed silent about it. He had to ask. He had to! But now he feels kind of awful and surely the moment is over, and maybe Richie feels hurt because he just said what he said and now they won’t be doing anything at all and Eddie was so looking forward to this.

But Richie, bless him, doesn’t even seem to take any offense. He just looks at him, his blue eyes so kind, as always, and then when he speaks he sounds so understanding and Eddie feels truly lucky to have this man, to love him and to be loved by him.

”I mean, I don’t need to suck you off now. I can… just give you a handy? Or we can stop entirely. I told you, Spaghetti. We can stop whenever.” Richie gives him a reassuring smile, his eyes crinkling, and his free hand, the one not holding his dick – because oh god, they really are having this conversation while Richie is holding his dick in his hand – rubs gentle circles against his thigh, soothing, calming. ”But I am clean. I get tested regularly, and haven’t slept with anyone since the last time. But I do understand if you don’t want to, I do, I promise. We can wait, we can get condoms at the next drugstore. If you want, I can even get tested first thing when we’re back to LA.”

Eddie shakes his head, feeling silly now, silly but relieved that he asked anyway, and then he looks at Richie, kneeling there on the floor, ready to do whatever Eddie wants or do nothing at all, and Eddie smiles at him and pulls him up into a kiss, because Richie needs to be kissed, he deserves it. And then, when they part again a while later, panting against each other’s mouths, he whispers hoarsely: ”It’s okay, Rich, I trust you. I do want to do this, I want you. I want you _so much._ ”

”Alright, then. Get ready for me to rock your world, baby”, Richie grins, before sliding back down on the floor again, resuming his firm grip on him, giving him a long, slow stroke, then another. Eddie moans and bucks his hips once again. There’s no way he can keep still with Richie touching him like he is now, and he knows that he won’t be lasting long at all. Richie’s grinning still, but the tone of his voice when he speaks again is a bit unsure now. ”Alright, so it has been quite a while since I’ve last done this. Way more than ten years actually. So uhhh… Okay, what I’m saying _I’m hoping_ I’ll be rocking your world, but I might be a bit rusty, so… sorry.”

”I’m sure you will rock my world just fine”, Eddie promises, because he really has no doubts. Then, because he wants to reassure Richie some more and possibly even make him laugh a bit, he adds: ”Besides I don’t exactly have a point of reference here, so you could’ve just pretended you’re a master cocksucker and I would’ve been none the wiser.” And that was clearly the right thing to say because Richie bursts out laughing and Eddie joins him in his laughter, and this is easy, this is familiar, just them laughing together, and Eddie feels warm and good and Richie hasn’t really even done anything to him yet, apart from little fondling.

”Jesus Christ, Spaghetti Man, you can’t just say something like that”, Richie grins at him after a while. ”I don’t think it’s very polite to be holding someone’s dick and laughing while doing so – in fact, I’m pretty sure that’s horrible bedroom etiquette. I should be ashamed. How can I ever repay you?” He waggles his brows and Eddie takes the bait, moves his hand into Richie’s hair and tugs a little, gently, but his voice is firm when he speaks.

”I say you get to work, Richie.”

The look on Richie’s face goes quickly from amused to incredibly aroused and when he speaks again, his voice is low and choked.

”Will do, boss.” And then when the warm, wet tightness of Richie’s mouth is enveloping him, Eddie knows he doesn’t stand a chance and he never did. He is going to come in seconds, he is, there is no way he can last any longer than that, oh how good that feels, so good, _too_ good. _Richie_ is so good.

Had he not admitted it, there is no way Eddie could’ve ever guessed he’s not as experienced in this as he seems to be, and alright, what does Eddie know about sex, not much, but still. He feels amazing, there are all these new sensations he’s experiencing at the same time, that wet suction, that velvety warmth, and oh, oh god, now Richie is making _humming noises_ around him. Eddie had no idea you could do that or that doing something like that would feel that good, but god, he wishes Richie would do it again.

”Richie… Richie, please…” he begs, tugging at his hair without even noticing, and the other man hums again, and then he takes him even _deeper_ than before, and Richie is looking up at him, his blue eyes full of want as he sits there between his legs with his mouth full of him and Eddie keeps whimpering and gasping and moaning. Richie looks perfect and he feels perfect and Eddie wishes this could go on forever but it can’t, it can’t last long at all because he is already so close, so damn close, he’s been close this entire time. And then Richie’s hands which have simply been resting on his thighs while he’s been giving Eddie pleasure with his mouth move to his hips, squeezing there and pulling Eddie forward, even deeper into him, all the way down, down, down his throat, oh god, how is that even possible, Eddie doesn’t know, but it feels perfect and he can’t hold it, he can’t.

He comes with a shout and he comes _so hard_ he thinks he might actually pass out. His ribs actually hurt from it and that is quite bad, alright, but the amount of pure pleasure far surpasses the pain in his mind, and so he doesn’t care all that much, not really. Not when it feels like he’s floating and his toes are curling from the force of his orgasm and Richie’s mouth is still on him, working on him, taking every last drop he has to give, like he can’t get enough of him, and maybe he can’t, Eddie thinks.

Finally Richie pulls away and helps him get his pants back on again and then, only then, does he get up from the floor, groaning because that position couldn’t have been good on his knees at all, but Richie is smiling so wide and looking so pleased with himself. Eddie, who feels like all his bones might have just turned into liquid, lets himself flop down on the bed on his back and a second later Richie is there right next to him, nuzzling affectionately against his neck. Eddie lets out a small giggle because now that he feels oversensitive from his orgasm, every touch feels like so much and goddamn it but Richie’s mustache tickles.

”Give me a moment to recover”, he then mumbles. ”Just a small moment. Not long. And then I’ll do you. I want to suck you off, too.”

”Aaaw, Eds, you don’t have to”, Richie speaks against his throat and coaxes another giggle out of him. ”It’s not necessarily everyone’s cup of tea. I could settle for a nice hand job. Or I could even… get off, just like this…” Richie then rolls his hips slowly against Eddie’s and he feels the warm hard press of his friend’s erection against him and damn it all, if he had the refractory period of a younger man, Eddie is quite sure he might get hard again, just from feeling that. But as it is, his spent cock only gives a small interested twitch at that and nothing more.

”Oh, but I do want to”, Eddie says determinedly, and then, because he feels like he’s recovered enough – since he can feel the strength returning to his limbs now – , he sits up and pins Richie beneath him and smiles down at his friend’s surprised yet pleased expression, and he kisses him, slow and deep, and Richie moans against his mouth and Eddie can taste himself on Richie’s tongue, and that’s… really _hot_ , actually. He pulls away after a while, licks his lips in what he hopes is a seductive way and when Richie just moans again at that, his eyes wide and dark from want, Eddie slowly makes his way down Richie’s body, opens his trousers with hands that only tremble very slightly, and, to quote himself from earlier, gets to work.

○-○-○

”I can’t believe we just did that”, Eddie says very softly, very quietly, when they are both lying down afterwards, side by side, both staring at the ceiling of his motel room. Richie feels Eddie’s hand next to his on the bed between them, so close, barely touching, and he uses his pinky finger to slowly caress Eddie’s and then intertwines his with it. Eddie turns to look at him with a soft look in his eyes. Richie answers in kind.

”You are glad we did though, right?” Richie asks, because he needs to be sure. He’d loved every minute of what they did, but for Eddie this was all new, and Richie would never forgive himself if he’d made the other man feel uncomfortable in any way.

”Of course.” Eddie stays quiet for a while, before continuing, his voice just as soft as before. ”It’s just that… All my life, I have thought there is something awfully wrong with me, and I don’t mean just my mom convincing me of having all these different kinds of illnesses. For a very long time I didn’t even bother awknowledging it, I just ignored that part of me entirely. My attraction for… men. If I didn’t pay any attention to it, I would be fine. I would seem normal. And I would be _safe._ ”

There is that word again, the word Eddie used when he brought up their lack of protection earlier, that word, safe, only used to mean something a bit different now. Richie knows what Eddie means by that. Oh, he knows.

And yet he probably doesn’t know _exactly_ , because the lives they’ve had are so very different and in many ways Richie’s probably had it much easier than Eddie. Living in LA, moving in the circles he does, he’s seen and heard all kinds of stuff. He’s known all along people like him exist everywhere, if you just know where to look, and there has been a certain level of comfort to be found in that. And then there’s the little fact that Richie also happens to like women, not just men, and quite a lot at that. Ignoring his taste in men hasn’t been that hard. Appearing normal, as Eddie called it, hasn’t been all that difficult for him. Everyone who knows – or thinks they know – him, back at home, has this image of him in their heads. Richie Tozier, the funny guy and womanizer. Little do any of them know Richie just had the best sexual experience of his life and it was with _another man_ , and that he never plans on having sex with anyone else ever again.

But Eddie… He has lived his entire life with his mother who’s never been tolerant of any kind of ”abnormality”, Richie knows this, because he remembers what Sonia Kaspbrak was like when they were only children and based on yesterday’s experience, old age has not mellowed her out whatsoever. Who knows what kind of toxic bullshit Eddie has needed to tolerate from day to day for 40 goddamn years?

Add to that them growing up in a place like Derry, hearing words like ’faggot’ and ’dirty little queer’ casually thrown around like no big deal, being called those things by Henry Bowers and his gang of bullies for whatever reasons and often for no reason at all, hell, add to that the tabloids screaming about the ”gay plague” all through the 80s – and still. People all over are still saying that men like them deserve to die, that the world would be a better place without dirty freaks like them. And Eddie has been alone with no one to turn to, and he’s not even had the luxury of also being attracted to women like Richie has and to be able to hide comfortably behind that.

”I did want to do what we did, Richie”, Eddie speaks again. ”And I want to continue doing that, and other things, and I feel like I should be ashamed of myself because I’ve been conditioned my whole life to think of things like these as bad and disgusting. And in a way… I think I am a bit ashamed. But mostly I’m ashamed of not feeling ashamed at all, you know? Does that even make sense?” Then he giggles and Richie’s heart swells at that sound, like it does every time. He loves Eddie’s laugh. And to think – because Eddie had told him this one day at the hospital – , that before Mike called, before coming back to Derry, Eddie had not really laughed for a long, long time. Richie wants to make Eddie laugh every day for the rest of his life.

He turns fully on his side, to face Eddie on the bed and Eddie turns properly on his side as well and then they look at each other and Richie grins and Eddie grins right back. Fuck, but this feels good. This feels so _right_.

”I don’t feel ashamed either, Spaghetti Man. I’ve been ashamed of many things in my life, but not this. Not of you.”

”Good. That’s so good to hear. You have no idea…” Eddie closes his eyes briefly, just smiling, but Richie watches that smile slowly fade away and then Eddie opens his eyes again and looks at him worriedly. ”We can’t really… tell anyone about us though, can we?” Then he purses his lips. ”No. Of course we can’t. And not because… because of being ashamed. But because… because we just can’t.”

Richie nods. Eddie is right, of course. Richie has his image as a comedian to think about and after his little disappearing trick he’s already owning lots of favors everywhere, he knows that from his many calls with his manager, some of which have ended in yelling and which he really doesn’t want to think about right now. His fanbase finding out he likes sex with men would probably be the end of his career as it is. And Eddie… Richie doesn’t want to drag Eddie into any of it, he doesn’t want the press to find out about Eddie and then expose his whole life because that’s no one’s business but Eddie’s own, but Richie can already imagine the potential tabloid headlines if the public ever found out about the two of them and… shit. Actually, fuck his career. He could always get a new job, but he couldn’t let something like that happen to Eddie.

”We’ll keep quiet about it”, Richie says softly, reaching out to caress his friend’s cheek and Eddie smiles at him, though his eyes look sad. ”If anyone ever inquires about it, we’re just roommates. It’s alright, Eddie, I swear.”

”I know”, Eddie says quietly. ”You told me yourself back in Derry when you offered to take me with you. You told your place is big enough for a family of ten, at least. Two friends living together in a place like that is nothing strange.”

”Right. So you don’t need to worry. No one needs to know.”

They stay silent for a while, just thinking, with Richie caressing Eddie’s cheek and Eddie letting him and that feels good, despite the seriousness of what they just talked about. Being able to touch Eddie like this feels good. Richie’s always been a touchy feely guy but he never realized just how much he was holding back from touching Eddie before he was allowed to touch him like this, like a lover. There’s no worrying about his touch being misinterpreted now. There is nothing left to misinterpret.

”We could tell the other Losers though”, Eddie speaks again suddenly and alerts Richie from his thoughts. ”Not… right away, but… you know. In time. When this things between us is not so new. I think they would understand. Or if not understand, at least they would… accept us.” Eddie looks at him as if waiting for him to disagree, but Richie doesn’t really find anything to disagree with when he considers it.

”You know what, I do think we _should_ tell them”, he says. ”When the time is right.” He is actually surprised by how little he even needs to think about it, and isn’t that ironic, considering that before today he would never have told about his preferences for men to anyone and certainly not to anyone who means as much to him as the Losers, because he would never want to lose them. Because maybe this, them hearing the truth about what Richie Tozier _really_ is like, would make them turn against him even if nothing else has.

But Eddie is braver than him and maybe together they are both braver still, and maybe they don’t need to be afraid of telling their friends. Richie thinks of Bill who was always kind of their leader and also good and just, and he thinks of Ben, kind and loyal, of Bev, sweet, darling Bev who he misses so much already, he thinks of Stan who he’s not seen for almost 30 years now but _who is alive_ , and who was always the voice of reason and common sense, and then he thinks of Mike. Mike who had stayed behind in Derry after all the rest of them were long gone, Mike who had remembered them all for all these years and who had brought them all back together again and who had been so sorry because it had to be for a reason like that, because Mike didn’t wish any of them any harm but he didn’t think he’d had a choice.

And then Richie remembers something that he thought of as a bit odd at the time, but he had simply shrugged it off because Mike was Mike, and that was something Mike might say because he is kind and a really good guy, true Loser through and through. But maybe there was more to it than that, he realizes now.

It had been early yesterday morning and they were leaving, they had just packed all their things inside the car and they had hugged Mike and promised to call him and Mike had told them to drive safe and all that, and told them he would come visit soon, when he left Derry himself. And then, when Eddie had already stepped inside the car, Mike had touched Richie’s arm and looked at him with a kind smile on his face and a knowing look in his eyes, and said: ”I am so happy for you both.”

Richie sits up so fast Eddie lets out a squeak and then struggles to sit up with him as well, and then Richie starts laughing because fuck, Mike had known all along, hadn’t he? That absolute bastard had known before either of them had even known it themselves.

”Richie, what, what is it?” Eddie demands and tugs at his arm and Richie just laughs and draws Eddie close and hugs him, mindful of his broken ribs even in the throes of his laughter and then when his laughter finally dies, he just looks at Eddie’s beautiful, confused face, smiling bright. ”Eddie my love”, he says. ”I think we need to give our good friend Mike a call. I think the time is already right when it comes to him.”

**Author's Note:**

> I had to end this fic on a lighter note because I felt like there was enough angst already. You're welcome. ❤️
> 
> Kudos and comments are always appreciated, but please be gentle. Also, my tumblr is morewyckedthanyou just in case anyone wants to come and say hi to me there.


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